Gig in Seaside

Before a noon gig in Seaside

I kill time in a park.

The dogs sniff and piss

as shirtless boys skate and crash

while the sprinklers

green the grass

of the Little League field.

“Kids have priority” a sign reads,

and I wonder about that.

Across the park

I see a white truck

and a large man

tending hundreds of hotdogs

grilling on a machine

that looks like it could fly.

He cooks alone.

For a minute

I wonder if any kids

will make his party

a priority.

Time to gig.

I lift the dogs into the truck.

drive to the library.

A book event in Seaside?

On a Saturday in the summer?

With a thousand Harleys in town?

Seven people show.

One brings me cookies.

One calls himself Beach Bob.

One has written a novel of Christians in the Roman Empire.

One walks in holding a motorcycle helmet

and a cigar she just snuffed out.

She’s 23 I’ll bet,

must really love Oregon history.

Probably a closet writer

who wants to gig.

She’ll get two books for free.

I begin to read.